


Guilty Barrel: The Fateful Fall

by plumeraccoon



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angels, Angels vs. Demons, Blood and Gore, Datenshi, Demons, F/F, Fallen Angels, Flashbacks, Good versus Evil, Gun Violence, Lesbian Sex, Out of Character, Prequel, Sex, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-06-19 12:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeraccoon/pseuds/plumeraccoon
Summary: Part of the Sunshine STARS Project, 2nd tier.Before the Guilty Barrel...before the Unholy Hollow...there was only Yohane.Beloved by many for her skill and intellect, this angel enjoyed nearly every privilege throughout her life. But then, she was accused of heresy after suggesting that light and darkness can coexist. The purity of Heaven has no place for such ideals, thus deciding to banish Yohane from the gates of the home she has loved. As she seeks a place to call home, she finds a friend in an angel long banished for a different crime.This is the story of the then-Guilty Barrel from her fateful fall to her portentous rise, one that spans three centuries (in angel/demon years) of conflict, love, and treachery.FEATURING THE ROLES OF:Chika Takami as Cheravel, the demonic vassalHanamaru Kunikida as Rumine, the healing maidenSarah Kazuno as Sefra, the older Sister of the False SaintLeah Kazuno as Leara, the younger Sister of the False SaintContains violence, gore, and nudity. Viewer discretion is advised.





	1. PROLOGUE

Calm and clear skies bless a panorama of the meeting of mountain and ocean. The sun showers the scenery in warmth amidst the ride of the breeze. Birds take to the skies unimpeded by the pull of the realm, more so by doubt and regret. All these and more are causes of envy in a certain fallen angel’s eyes, her past weighing her down. Eyeing the birds enjoying their freedom, she feels the yearning of flight filling her. Her hand reaches out to the birds flying away, desiring a share of that freedom, but they pay her no heed. The flock vanishes in the azure, toward lands beyond a mere arm’s reach. To her dismay, the fallen angel remains where she stands, a balcony in an island hotel, not to join the flock beyond the horizon.

The rumble of the patio door opening draws no attention from her. But the demure voice in its wake does. “Here you are, Yocchan,” the gentle Riko joins her friend by the edge in admiring the tranquility they have fought and bled for. “Everyone’s already here. Let’s go join them.” Yoshiko’s inaction, however, makes it clear that she must rid her mind of some doubts first.

“Don’t you miss home, Riri?” Yoshiko turns away from the sky in exchange for this strange question. Riko can only return a curious glance. “Don’t you miss the skies? Your fellow angels?” the fallen angel’s questions pile up, her doubt clear as the skies bearing witness.

“Well, I do. Sometimes,” Riko slumps at the recall of a painful memory.

“I keep asking myself if we did the right thing. Making an enemy out of Heaven and Hell.”

“Yocchan…”

“Back then…all I ever wanted was my old life back. But now…”

A moment of silence, then Riko raises her head. “We can’t do anything about that anymore.”

“But Riri…”

“All we can do is to make the most of our new life. And hope that it’s better than the old.”

“You’re pretty certain of yourself.”

“I’m not. It’s just…a feeling of mine.”

Such a feeling fails to free Yoshiko from the clutches of doubt. Her ruthless past as a servant of discord hardly pauses in haunting her, a burden she eagerly wants gone. The craving for a vicious melee burns ever fiercely in her soul, nearly prompting her to reach for her guns and challenge Riko. Fortunately, a battle never comes to pass, never in a peace she and her fellow forsaken have fought and shed blood for. Instead, she finds some comfort in Riko’s warm grasp and smile. “We’re all here for you, Yocchan. _I’m_ here for you…no matter what.”

Finding assurance in the redhead’s words, Yoshiko grasps her hand tighter. “Thanks, Riri.”

“Now, are you just gonna stand there sulking?”

“Aaaaand there goes the moment.”

Leaving the freedom of the clear skies, the girls return inside. The choice to take to the skies once more or not must come after a fruitful gathering.

**~O~**

“THANK YOU ALL for coming today,” Mari’s merry words fill the small living room of guests and gourmet. Over a cup of tea and the pastries to match, the assembly of Yohane’s Company—as it has become to be known—lends its collective ear to the crafty mortal. As the brains behind the greatest gambit of humanity, her words are to be taken lightly at one’s own peril. “I welcome you to our first _celebrazione,_ courtesy of House Ohara. Let’s all get along, _bellas_.”

The human realm is now home to the winged band of sisters-in-arms, forsworn by their kin. Neither Heaven nor Hell defines their actions since the day they chose to be the wings of humanity. The light and darkness they carry fight their former masters and allies who dare to turn Earth into a battlefield again. With peace reigning for the meantime, however, they sheath their powers and set aside their prowess for a time for celebration. Stories of feats unique to each other’s ears are aplenty, furthering their understanding of each other’s nature.

One question from an intrigued Chika prompts a narrative worth lending an ear to. “I gotta ask. How does an angel end up as a _fallen_ angel?”

“Quite simple,” You answered on behalf of her species. “You do something that _really_ pisses off the higher-ups. After exile, you wander around for a while then demons come and pick you up.”

Chika gives You a stern look. “Okay, You-chan. What did you do to be one?”

“Me? Ha, ha, ha…funny you should ask.”

“Well? Out with it.”

“Now may not be a best time for—”

Yoshiko satisfies Chika’s curiosity without looking her way. “She had sex with a Dominion’s daughter,” she partakes in her cup of tea, as if the unusual tidbit is anything but.

“Yocchan!” shouted You.

“The Fifth’s, to be precise.”

“Yocchan, cut it out!”

“What? You’ll tell them eventually.”

“Not right now!”

Kanan, also without looking away from her tea, adds to the tidbit. “And because of that, the Fifth _still_ wants Yusari-chan’s head on a stick.”

“Eh?! He’s still that pissed?” said You in disbelief. “It’s been like, what, centuries?”

“Dominions never forget…and forgive.”

“Like you’re the one to talk.”

“Well, I’m no longer a Dominion. So it doesn’t apply to me.”

“Like that makes any sense!”

Soon, all eyes turn to Yoshiko, still in the middle of her drink but well-aware of the collective curiosity facing her. Through blood, sweat, and tears, the eponymous anti-hero has become the link for the fates of all the people in the room. They all have told her their stories, all the more reason for the renowned Guilty Barrel to tell hers.

“You really want to know?” Yoshiko helps herself to a chocolate macaron.

“If it’s okay,” Riko replied.

“You’ll fall asleep.”

“The tea will keep us awake,” Mari said.

“You’ll probably die of boredom.”

“If we’re about to, we’ll let you know,” Dia smirked.

“It’s not all rainbows and unicorns.”

“We’re used to it by now, zura,” Hanamaru said.

Yoshiko finally gives her friends the attention they deserve, albeit with a disturbed look. But in this time of need, Riko’s words from earlier ring true: _“We’re all here for you, Yocchan. I’m here for you.”_ The unease in her subsides, encouraging her to tell her tragic tale as the girls get comfortable. Soon, the story of a million words begins with her introduction.

Her name is Yohane.

 

**START**

**~Guilty Barrel: The Fateful Fall~**


	2. My Name is Yohane

**300 CY (celestial years) before the events of _Guilty Barrel_**

_Before, I was known as simply Yohane, a normal angel. Despite the war, I enjoyed an almost utopic life as a junior sage (although I trained in the use of the sword). Fellow angels, namely the young ones, come to me wanting to learn anything new in my studies. They grew fond of my daily discussions, and in turn I grew fond of their devotion._

_Then that fateful day came._

_As a candidate for elevation to senior sage, I prepared a thesis to present to the academy. A middle-aged angel came up to me and shared his ideas about light and darkness coexisting. I was aware that he was speaking heresy, but his crafty use of words convinced me._

_I shared this knowledge with my peers, who began looking at me in disgust and avoiding me all together. I held my ground with my research, but ultimately I was stripped of my prestige. Soon, the Celestial Council branded me a heretic and banished me from Heaven._

_Across the expanse, I searched for a new home. But along the way, I was caught in a celestial storm. My wings took a hit and forced me down hard on a grassy knoll. This is where it all began._

**~O~**

Wings once pure as ivory lay crippled under a blanket of blooms and grass. The warmth of a distant, meadow world wraps around wounds smudged by dirt and dust. At the top end of a trail of displaced earth, Yohane wakes up to her new surroundings, groaning in pain. Her limbs convulse as she compels them to help her get up, only for sharp pain to bring her down. Try as she might over and over, the pain of a hard landing and of her fate as an exile stops her all the same.

The meadow world, devoid of a sapient society, may as well be the exiled angel’s new home. None will dare challenge her heresy, albeit none will listen to them. Her world, built upon centuries of finding and sharing new wisdom, falls apart as a result of naiveté. Circles of friends, once looking up to her as a youth of great talent, disown her up to her existence. Perhaps the swallowtail perched on her mangled wing fancies her wisdom, but its disinterest sends it fluttering toward its fellows in the distance.

Attempt after attempt, she bears the brunt of pain to her body and soul as she arises. Around her, flora and fauna beyond what her eyes witness. The grim reality sinks in slowly, as does the pinch of a spearhead behind her, which freezes her scared. “Feel that?” the spear’s handler sneered. “It’s my pointy stick about to kebab you within the next minute. Don’t bother calling friends. It won’t do you good.”

Fear chokes Yohane seconds before her demise. After a while, she finds peace. “Please…make it painless, if you can.”

Her executioner is shocked at the request. “What?”

“Being banished already hurts enough. So please…”

“Sorry. I don’t _do_ painless.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. It’ll only be until I die, anyway.”

The pinch of the spearhead deepens enough to open another wound. Its wielder, however, is at a loss as to how to kill an angel asking to be killed. “You’re an oddball. The others I’ve killed usually ask for mercy. Not that I _do_ mercy.”

“I’ve lost everything. There’s no point in asking for mercy.”

“Well…if you want it painless. But I’m not making any promises.”

“Just do what needs to be done.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez, you’re a handful.”

With a blood-soaked tip, the spear is pulled out of its slow pierce but not to spare Yohane. It needs enough momentum to end her suffering in one thrust. The disgraced angel braces for death, the only means of deliverance. Yet, as tense minutes pass, the spear holds its killing blow.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Yohane.

“Let me ask you something first. What’s your name?”

“Does it matter?”

“In a tombstone, yes.”

“I don’t want to be remembered.”

“You won’t be. This is for the record.”

Introducing one’s self never harmed anyone, she supposes. “My name is Yohane.”

“Yohane, huh? Can I call you Yocchan?”

“Whatever. It won’t matter.”

“After today, it will.”

Instead of an organ, the spear’s prey changes to a figure in the shadows. With a good throw, the spear knifes through the air and into a nearby tree line. In mere seconds, to the angel’s surprise, the agony of its stricken victim startles a nested flock. The rats scurrying about in the darkness soon emerge, the fires of vengeance burning in their eyes as do their blades.

All is made clear regarding the enemy’s intentions in a neutral world. “Looks like your _real_ killers are here, Yocchan.”

> **RIKO:** No way! They sent the White Knights to kill you?
> 
> **YOU:** Is that right?
> 
> **RIKO:** Yeah. While their name sounds admirable, they’re really a hit squad called upon to kill exiled angels. That way, discord won’t be able to capture and corrupt them for their own use.
> 
> **YOU:** Well, they sure _suck_ at their job.

**~O~**

THREE ARCHANGELS form a robust front before the banished and the evil responsible for claiming one of their own. Between the sight of flaming swords and the reality of dying at the hands of her kin, Yohane collapses in utter shock.

The mysterious spearman finally steps in, revealing her full profile. Her black dress undulates with the air of battle adrift across the grassland, as does her beige head of hair. One of her arms reaches out to the direction of the hurled spear, flying back into her grasp without question. Its head leaks blood of its earlier victim, drawing the ire of the angels. Regardless, she stands in the way mocking her enemies with an eerie smile.

“Know what, Yocchan?” she talks to Yohane without turning away from the looming battle. “I used to be an angel, too. I was ready to kick the bucket, but destiny showed me a better way.”

“A better…way?”

“Care to know? I’ll show you.”

Dark energy suddenly bursts forth beneath the former angel, her black dress undulating in a rage. Yohane bears witness to parts of her would-be savior’s dress dissolving. Out of rifts, chains emerge and bind her flesh in many places, even in those that trigger her guilty pleasure. By her will, the chains ignite in dark flame but not to burn her alive. As she basks in the satisfaction, the flames cover her body in a dress that bares much of her flesh. A pair of black wings ends her lustful transformation.

The angels raring for battle tighten their grip on their flametongues. Yohane is left astounded by the revelation in the presence of a fallen angel.

“Sit tight, Yocchan,” said the fallen angel. “Let me entertain our ‘guests’ first.”

The battle begins in earnest, a lone servant of darkness against the comparable might of a platoon of angels. The fanning of heavenly flames scorch flora and fauna but not their true target, whose agility make a mockery of their attempts. Adding insult to injury is the fallen angel’s mirth, a sign of one who relishes in battle. From a safe distance, Yohane watches the grace of her savior fight against the odds as if it hardly matters. Awe and fear mar her witness to the fight: awe at the fallen angel’s prowess and fear at her hysteria of claiming another victim. In her mind, Yohane wonders whether her newfound acquaintance is friend or foe.

By the battle’s end, the fallen angel stares at her work with pride. The stains of blood in her dress are but a work of art to her liking, more so the corpses strewn across the knoll. Grass smolders and flowers wilt at the mercy of embers amidst the returning calm. She partakes in her reward, blood, which she takes great pleasure in licking off of her spear.

Startled by a realization, she snaps back to Yohane. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’ve not yet introduced myself. You can call me Yusari.” She walks up to the terrified angel, extending a hand. “If you like, I can show you a better way.”

“What do you mean?” Yohane looks away from the helping hand in shame.

“If you ask me, I’d rather go down fighting than do nothing.”

“Fighting? But I…”

“Come with me and I’ll show you how.”

Wise beyond her years, Yohane knows well to make a contract with a servant of darkness, let alone a fallen angel. Her hesitation drags on, yet Yusari keeps her smile and reaching hand as would a genuine friend. “I can’t go back, anyway,” the angel utters before accepting the hand.

Thus marks the start of a bond forged in fire to last through time.


	3. Second Chances

**287 CY before the events of _Guilty Barrel_**

_Of course, I knew better to accept an offer from a servant of darkness. But it’s not that turning Yusari down will redeem me in the eyes of Heaven. So I followed her across a myriad of realms to the heart of discord, an apocalyptic realm called the Underworld…or Hell in human parlance._

_The realm is just as every bit as I pictured: badlands with boiling geysers of lava where the darkness lasts forever. We were only in the outskirts, but I could already see the horrors in the form of souls trapped in flesh being boiled alive as eternal punishment. Yusari told me that those guys had it easy. The more cruel sentences involve being haunted by all of your nightmares for eternity._

_It was only after coming to Earth that I realized something. Parents warning their misbehaving kids about “going to Hell” are actually amusing to watch._

**~O~**

Badlands with boiling geysers of lava where the darkness lasts forever.

No account of the nature of the Underworld comes close. Eternal suffering echoes above the rivers of flame and rocks splattered with blood of torture. Hollow vessels of flesh litter the rocky landscape, some chained to dead trees while others feasted upon by helldivers. Even in a territory held by the darkness for eons on end, the roads to the citadel lay perilous for demons. Those who tread these roads must contend with the flocks of horrors that lack sentience to admit defeat, let alone know the term. The airspace also hosts its share of perils, namely helldivers that pick on wings of fallen angels to force them down. Between taking flight and treading lightly, the traveling duo takes their chances with the latter.

Her sword taken away prior to exile, Yohane watches from the safety of boulders as Yusari dispatches the monsters with ease. Her unsettling delight in the suffering of her enemies tells a great deal about bloodlust. She “keeps her spear clean” by licking the blood off of the head, taking great pleasure in a satisfying moan. Every after battle, Yohane is forced to watch the perverted fallen angel rub the shaft up and down between her legs. Precious time is wasted, but only a fool would dare go alone.

Long and arduous as it may be, a journey is not without end. The grand wall that defends the citadel comes to view along with the only gate in this part of the badlands. Step by step, Yusari clears the way for her angelic guest (and partakes in more blood, to her delight). Beneath the titanic gate, they look on in wonder its intricate adornments, a retelling of a minor part of cosmic history. Three giant locks line the center, imposing their will of remaining closed unless prompted by authority. Yohane can only wonder the world that lies on the other side.

> **YOSHIKO:** It took us around 30 years to get to the citadel, all because _someone_ here couldn’t keep her perversions in check.
> 
> **YOU:** It’s not my fault my powers come from it. They don’t call me the Perverted Peltast for nothing.
> 
> **MARI:** _O mio Dio!_ This is getting a bit too naughty. Someone cover Ruby’s ears.
> 
> **RUBY:** Ehhh?!

“I don’t suppose they’ll open for an angel,” Yohane wondered.

“Don’t worry. They don’t open for demons, either,” Yusari replied.

“Really?”

“Not easily, at least.”

“Okay, good to know. So how do we get in?”

The ground suddenly trembles. A terrified Yohane races toward a nearby boulder and hangs on for dear life, while Yusari laughs at her silliness. Ahead of them, fissures glow red hot, a gargantuan rising from the igneous depths. Flames impose their wrath as a huge set of claws emerge from the fissure. Soon, the rest of the gargantuan appears: a hellhound with three heads and a serpent for a tail. The creature issues its mandate while the fissures burn ever fiercely.

_You stand before the triad of Cerberus, Keeper of the Badlands. Speak your intention past this gateway or face the wrath that awaits your defiance._

“Hey Cerberus,” Yusari greets the creature with a wave. “Long time no see.”

The flames die and return to the depths. “Oh. You again,” Cerberus’s central head replied, as if stultified to see the fallen angel. “For the last time, fallen angels enter through the north!”

“I know, I know. But I can’t _exactly_ bring an angel there.”

The hellhound’s gazes shift to a trembling Yohane, still holding onto the boulder. “You have the audacity to bring an angel to the citadel. Do you have a death wish?”

“I’m just gonna show her around. That’s all.”

“Rules are rules. No traces of harmony past here. You know the punishment for defiance.”

“Don’t talk to me about _punishments_ , all right? My friend here deserves a second chance.”

“A second chance?”

“They gave me one back then. Why should Yocchan be any different?”

As old as the history between the two servants of darkness is, the gatekeeper shakes all three heads in unison. “I cannot forego the duty granted to me. However, there is another way.”

“Well, lay it on me.”

**~O~**

TURNED AWAY from the gates, the duo embarks on another journey of a million miles. From the fiery badlands, they cross another myriad of dimensions to reach where the wisdom of the Cerberus has directed them. On a realm called the Burning Gate, a unique creature in service to the darkness has made its home. Through its nourishing tendrils, the few but fervent servants tasked with protecting a vital road are refilled with vigor without fail. Through its vicious nature, any invading army is forced to face it in battle. Through it, Yohane may just find the “better way” Yusari speaks of.

Yohane follows her guide in silence, her mind drowning in doubt about the only choice she has. Some love for her former home remains in the depths of her uncorrupted soul, more so the hope of redemption. She desires to rectify her ways, perhaps renouncing the heresy she has placed too much faith in. On the other hand, Yusari challenges the little hope left in her. Banishment is absolute. Not a single angel in eons has ever returned to angelic society, even while fighting on the side of light as a vagabond. In such cases, desperation has driven them to death, their deeds never to be celebrated.

“Think about it, Yocchan. It would only be a waste.”

“Still…I want to try,” Yohane answered. “I know there’s hope for me yet. I just know it.”

“That’s what I believed ages ago. I was sorely disappointed.”

“Well, I’m not like you. So let me have my little bit of hope.”

“No one’s taking your hope away. Just don’t come crying to me when it goes up in smoke.”

The conversation is cut short at the looming sight of another burning landscape. Fiery fumes make up the air drifting above geysers of flame, which rain embers down on the scorched earth. Rivers run red hot with molten rock, more than in the Badlands, and the burning remains of fools thinking they can tread the surface. Other fools who fly too close to the ground see their wings set ablaze and suffer the same fate. Nothing in this realm of fire can be called sanctuary.

“Welcome to the Burning Gate,” greeted Yusari. “Population: extra crispy.”

Extra crispy indeed.

Yohane, however, is in no mood to respond to a playful description of the realm. Her sights set on the distant hope of redemption, the persistent angel drifts too close to an erupting geyser.

“Yocchan, watch out!” a shocked Yusari calls her out but is too late.

The imminent blaze fills Yohane’s vision seconds before her body is incinerated. The shrill of pain that follows echoes across the realm, even as she falls out of the sky while on fire. Yusari swoops down and catches her scant feet from the rivers of molten rock, but enough damage has been done.

The flames of the Burning Gate have left their deadly mark. Much of the angel’s flesh melts through the charred remains of her dress. Embers burn the few intact feathers in her wings, slowly depriving her of the joy of flight. Her eyes open partly, gazing upon her friend constantly begging her to give a sign of life. Then she faints, the unseen hand of death reaching out to take her away.

> **YOSHIKO:** It was nasty. Even today, the burns still hurt.
> 
> **RIKO:** Yocchan…
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Had Yusari stood her ground, I would have died there. It seems ironic that I have her to thank for saving me when I was eager to die.

“Yocchan, speak to me,” cried the fallen angel as she holds Yohane in her arms.

Then, the rasp of an intruder complicates matters. “Fallen angel ahead! To arms, brothers!”

“The nerve of them,” Yusari cringes at the valiant charge of a flight of angels. She frees up a hand to beckon her spear to battle, only to have one hand less to carry Yohane. “I can’t fight them off while carrying Yocchan,” she returns her free hand to carrying her friend.

Escape stands as her only viable option, which she quickly opts by weaving through the geysers of flame. The angels give chase just as fast, matching her graceful agility across the perilous obstacles. The weight of a dying angel in her arms soon begins to affect her balance as she leans too close to the geysers. Her wingtips catch fire in several near misses, but she bears the brunt of the pain and dashes with all her might. The life of a friend hangs by a thread.

“Yocchan…live…”


	4. Root of Evil

**239 CY before the events of _Guilty Barrel_**

_I woke up at a demon encampment outside what seemed to be an old temple. At Yusari’s insistence, their healer treated most of my burns._

_While resting up, I began wondering why Yusari went to great lengths just to keep me alive. At the time, my first thought was that she knew of a better way to die. But after escaping ambushes and nearly getting burned to death, I was convinced that this wasn’t the case. If Yusari herself was any indication, she planned for me to become a fallen angel like her. And Riri is right about one thing: discord does use exiled angels._

_Still, my hope for redemption remained strong. I was certain that I could return to the fold if I just renounced my heresy. Then came the ritual…_

**~O~**

Idle chatter and the sting of a healing salve disrupt Yohane’s slumber inside a derelict tent. The lone lamp swaying gently on the ceiling reveals other beds resting the injured and the dying. Her burns pale in comparison to the agony of twisted wings and torn limbs, and the blood trickling to the last drop. A hooded figure only known by his mask of horns pays the pleas of bleeding demons no heed as he passes by. In utter horror, the angel witnesses the demons drop lifeless in their beds. As the figure nears her, she gestures to flee his judgment.

“Fear not, child. Your life burns strong still,” the figure’s coarse voice echoes through his mask. He stops in front of Yohane, who is spared death. “I pass judgment to those who are beyond saving. Their insipid pleas are of no interest to me or the collective.”

He then narrates the events that have escaped her. Yohane recalls being cradled in Yusari’s arms but not the mad dash through the gauntlet of geysers. In that dash, the fallen angel battles and defeats one of the pursuing angels, an impressive feat under the handicap of carrying her friend. The salve recovered as a spoil of war is put to good use on the extent of burns in Yohane’s body.

> **YOU:** You guys should’ve seen the look on Yocchan’s face. She was about to bolt. Ha, ha, ha…
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** You should’ve seen the look on Yusari’s face when she learned that she just made out with the Fifth’s daughter.
> 
> **YOU:** Hey! No fair…but that’s what I love about you.
> 
> **CHIKA:** You-chan, you’re crazy.

The stranger shows his wilted hand, the result of prolonged contact with a holy substance. “If not for her bravado, you would have suffered the same fate.”

Remorse burdens Yohane. “Why…why would she go that far?”

“I do not claim to have the answer, child. But for now, you must rest. The salve needs time to take effect.” Soon, the man behind the mask begins walking. His passing claims one final demon, whose suffering from a gaping wound in his chest ends with no last words. Yohane shudders at the sight, but fortunately this marks her first and last encounter of the stranger, who disappears into the blazing wilderness beyond the tent.

Seeking a more appropriate death no longer justifies Yusari’s actions in Yohane’s eyes. Across countless realms, every opportunity has passed: the ambush by angels, incineration by the geyser, even Yusari’s decision to spare her. All this is a pretext for her to join the ranks of discord as a fallen angel, given Yusari’s words earlier. _I used to be an angel, too. That’s what I believed ages ago. I was sorely disappointed_. No other pretext simply makes sense.

“Yocchan! You’re finally awake,” Yusari enters the tent, her wings and dress stained with blood. “I guess the old man managed to work his magic, huh?”

“Where were you?” asked Yohane.

“Just took care of some things… _in cold blood_.”

“Now I have no idea which one of you is creepier.”

“Did you see how he kills those dying demons just by passing by? Neat, huh?”

“Yes, I saw him. That’s not—”

“One time, he had to pass by a demon twice because he didn’t die at the first.”

“That’s not what—”

“It’s funny because he’s not a demon. But he’s not an angel—”

“ _Yusari!_ ”         

At the behest of her friend’s frantic glance, Yusari ceases her babbling. The question at hand gets straight to the point, to which the fallen angel breaks out in laughter in response. Her words, as it turns out, have been lost in translation.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she held back her hilarity. “I’m still showing you a better way but not a way to _die_. Why would I go through all this trouble just to have you killed in the end?”

“But you said you’d rather go down fighting,” retorted Yohane.

“Doesn’t necessarily mean I have to _die_.”

“Then why? Why couldn’t you just…”

“You want to convince your angelic buddies to welcome you back, right?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Can’t do that much when you’re _dead_.”

Fewer words come out of Yohane and her incongruity until only shallow breaths are left. For an angel who feeds on wisdom, she has fallen victim to contradiction of her own accord. Is it the effect of estrangement? All she knows is that her character is in a slow decay, and perhaps the only means of relief is a contract with the darkness.

> **DIA:** The Forbidden Fruit syndrome…
> 
> **CHIKA:** Forbidden _what_?
> 
> **DIA:** When an angel remains too far from his or her home for too long, he or she begins to lose him or herself. This is because of exposure to a totally different environment.
> 
> **RUBY:** Onee-chan and I feel this every time we secretly meet outside Heaven and Hell. In a way, it prompted our decision to abandon our causes.
> 
> **DIA:** It’s supposed to be just a theory, though. There are some who have shown immunity.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Yeah. We’re all looking at one right now.
> 
> **YOU:** …what?

“Do you want me to become a fallen angel?” asked a stern Yohane.

“Do you want to?” Yusari smirked.

“If I do that, then I won’t be able to return.”

“What if they don’t let you back in, anyway?”

“Well, what if they _do_?”

“Then choose. I’ll wait.”

Yohane feels more of her sanity decay. Her choice might not matter when the last vestige of her angelic self vanishes. In the depths of her heart, however, a faint hint of gratitude reminds her of Yusari’s heroic deeds. It complicates matters, but she makes a choice with as few as three words.

“I trust you.”

**~O~**

TWO PAIRS OF FOOTSTEPS sound within the hollows of a temple older than time itself. The staccato crumble of stone, scorched by timeless fire, plays for the temple’s visitors. Monuments of angels sounding anthems of triumph lay broken with the crumbling walls, allusions to the temple’s holy origin and perhaps the realm’s. Deeper in the halls, an eldritch growl joins the crumbling noises. A terrified Yohane staggers a stone’s throw away from an intact vault of stone, to Yusari’s glee. Having given her word, however, Yohane cannot turn back from the abomination waiting inside. 

The vault opens for the girls without question, not by magic but by a probe in the shadows. Past the entrance, darkness hides the creature the Cerberus spoke of but not for long. The walls flicker, shedding all their light on a bulbous bane with feelers of various sizes. Beneath its jagged teeth, more feelers emerge as part of its playful intimidation, which sends Yohane cowering behind the chuckling Yusari.

This is the “better way” Yusari speaks of. “Meet the Defiler. Your one-way ticket to fallen angelhood.” A quick pass by one of the creature’s smaller feelers against her sweet spot brings untold pleasure. “Ah! Oh stop it, you.”

Be it the monster itself or the ritual that involves it, Yohane' almost eats her words in terror. “I-I-I h-have to be de-defiled by t-that…THING?!”

The creature groans, as if showing its annoyance for the specific term.

“Whoa, whoa, watch your words,” Yusari hurries to calm the beast with simple strokes of its feelers. “You’ll have to forgive her. She doesn’t know that you don’t take to being called a ‘thing’ too well.”

“N-No! I re-refuse to undergo—”

“It can get rough at first, but after that it’ll feel great.”

“Are you even listening?!”

The angel’s opinion falls to deaf ears as the Defiler grabs and drags her by the leg. Dangling above the monster’s teeth, she shrieks for her life with an amused Yusari as a witness. The feelers beyond its teeth creep up on her flesh, tearing her angelic dress amidst her violent protest. Soon, one feeler slithers its way into her virginity, while another gags her and halts the screaming. Nevertheless, her futile effort to break free barely abates.

“Resisting will only make him work harder, Yocchan,” But Yusari’s advice falls to ears deafened by sheer terror. Nevertheless, she finds entertainment in a terrified angel. “Oh, Yocchan. You’re so cute when you’re scared.”           

 


	5. Death and Rebirth

**227 CY before the events of _Guilty Barrel_**

_Cerberus only told us to seek the creature. Neither he nor Yusari mentioned undergoing a ritual that involved tentacles. Hundreds of them._

_I still detest such a crude manner, but a silver lining came out of it. As the feelers slithered all over my body, visions of my angelic life flashed before my eyes. I saw myself sharing wisdom with fellow angels who lent an ear. I saw myself hanging out with friends, not a care in the world despite the raging war._

_I also saw those hiding in the shadows, plotting…conspiring…_

**~O~**

All over a catatonic Yohane, tentacles wrap her and slowly slither their way into every possible angle. The orifice of her virginity is the first to fall before the pleasure they promise to bring, her moaning gasps a sign of that promise fulfilled. Another enters through her mouth, embedding itself as far as the back of her tongue. Her eyes narrow with a new wave of bliss surging inside. In and out the tentacles go, each cycle adding to the swelling orgasm. _Ah, this is so wrong._ Yohane’s mind races amidst pain and pleasure. _This shouldn’t be…but it feels so good. This…ah…is so wrong, yet so right._ Her ironies fall to ears deafened by the allure only tentacles coated in her ejaculate can provide. Her eyes soon close in total bliss, allowing her to be whisked away to parts unknown.

A brief slumber later, she opens her eyes to a realm of pure whiteness. Her body is surprisingly free of the grasp of the tentacles and the sensation they provide. Angelic wings glow in their everlasting glory, as do her ivory robes. Above the clouds, the clueless angel gazes at the hustle and bustle of home below. Her kin who have shunned her for heresy go about their mundane lives. How did she end up back home when the gates have closed shut for her?

“Where…am I?” Yohane muttered to herself.

_Is this not your home?_

She panics at the reply from thin air. “Huh?! W-Who are you?”

_You called this place home once, did you not?_

“I…I did. But it’s not home anymore.”

_Because of your heresy._

“Yes…my heresy.”

A long pause allows Yohane to gaze upon her beloved home for some time. Tears run down her face as she sees the realm of angels move on without her. The sights and sounds fill the void in her heart, left by her exile, with yearning. On the ground, fellow angels share idle chatter, if not healthy discourses. In the skies, wings crisscross across the skies in a friendly race to the finish line off in the distance.

One of the competitors zips past, almost knocking Yohane off her feet. Is that angel unaware how close he came to a midair collision? He barely stops to apologize, instead dashing with all haste to the yonder. Still, even with a dollop of awareness, any angel can take notice to a heretic befouling the skies with her presence.  

Then, it hit her. “This is not home.”

_It is not. This is your remorse made flesh._

“My…remorse?”

Yohane is in the depths of her own mind, where the vestiges of love for her former home doggedly remain. This is the means by which the Defiler turns victims of circumstance to discord’s gain. Not to control but enrich feelings like regret, guilt, and grief to the point that the victim makes a choice of his or her own accord. It will remind Yohane of the truth, however painful to bear. One such truth is that, in her remorse, she is invisible to all but herself.

With that realization, the mysterious voice manifests itself in a swirl of dark energy. As quick as it appeared, the darkness clears up and reveals a girl clad in black from dress to wings. The incredible amount of skin her outfit exposes, however, shocks Yohane less than the girl wearing it. She recognizes her own face anywhere, much less the darkness made in her image.

“Who…are you?” asked a cautious Yohane.

“I am you,” the darkness before her grins. “I am the darkness that lies inside you.”

“Preposterous! I am an angel. I harbor _no_ darkness, only light.”

“Your remorse is enough proof. You are a part of me just as I am a part of you.”

“Is this that tentacle monster’s doing? Is this one of its tricks?”

“Monster? You speak of the Defiler?”

“Yes.”

“He lacks the ability to conjure such beings. All this is the product of your mind.”

The more she listens to the dark rhetoric, the more she believes it to be true. “My…mind?”

“Let me show you.”

A snap of her dark twin’s fingers and the scenery moves as would a reel of film. The endless expanse of clouds gives way to the archaism of cobbled streets and stone structures. The grind of daily life fazes through them, never to pay heed what the naked eye cannot see. This surprises Yohane but not as much as a small forum by the side that mentions her name. The forum bristles with words, but the gist is that Yohane is the root of the angels’ jealousy.

“What is this?” Yohane trembles before the treasonous display.

“As I have said, this is your mind,” replied her dark twin.

“This can’t be my mind. I don’t recall seeing this.”

“You never did. This is what you think has led to your exile.”

“Now, you’re just tricking me. I demand that you let me out.”

“Very well.”

Dark Yohane giggles and snaps her fingers again, the scenery moving to another location. They witness the band of jealous angels meet a fellow angel who, for his bright robes and wings, exudes an aura of trouble. The secret exchange, in fact, speaks of a plan to frame Yohane for heresy by feeding her false wisdom.

Such wisdom? Angels and demons can coexist in peace.

“No,” Yohane winces in denial. “This isn’t how it happened. This is all a _lie_.”

“You are correct,” her dark twin replied. “This is all a lie _you_ passed off as truth.”

“You’re trying to coax me into becoming a fallen angel. Are you Yusari’s pawn?”

“How can I be a fallen angel’s pawn if I am _you_?”

In a snap, the next event sees herself, in a conversation with the suspicious angel from before. The dialogue they enjoy, however casual, is an affront should other angels overhear it. They share the view of light and darkness coexisting to pave the way for a better world. Her past self finds a muse in the angel’s words, her present self only finding her folly.

The pieces come together as Dark Yohane explains. “There never was a band of jealous angels. There never was an angel who taught you such heresy. All this exists in your mind to convince yourself that you are the victim. All this is YOUR own doing.”

“LIAR!” roared Yohane.

“Regrettably, I share my host’s penchant for lies.”

“Shut up! SHUT UP!”

“Doubt lingers in you a strong creature. You know all these to be lies. And you deny it out of shame.”

One last snap and the scenery rewinds to the forum of angels, this time with Yohane passing by. The truth plays out frame by frame, hearing the idea from the forum that had no intention of ruining her reputation. To the next episode, she asks for input from said suspicious angel about a change in her paper. The only thing “suspicious” is Yohane herself, as she is warned that heresy is punishable by exile and an unsung death. Yet she insists on the subject and presents it to a heretic’s reception. Eventually, she chooses to blame the circumstances earlier for her failure.

The truth finally gets the current Yohane to fall to her knees. “It’s…it’s all my fault…”

“Is it clear to you now?” said her dark twin.

Yohane cringes and shudders. “Y-Yes…”

“See it as deception if you must. But you know this to be true.”

“It’s true…all of it…”

The heavens around them crack and shatter, leaving nothingness in its wake. The blackness blinds the angel as she trains her gaze all over. Only the dark twin’s voice exists, which gives Yohane a red-blue pill choice. Refuse the truth and die in futility. Or accept it and be reborn.

“What do you choose?”

**~O~**

SLITHERING FEELERS loosen their grip on Yohane, the few latching on setting her down on the ground. Pieces of her angelic robe fall off her skin, her wings having lost its shine. At the retreat of the last of the feelers, Yohane is left to stare beyond the lair of the Defiler. Bare feet brush against the grit of the sand and brittle stone, skin exposed in the unbearable heat.

A cautious Yusari approaches her and waves in between the stare and the beyond. “Hello? Hell to Yocchan.”

Then comes a response, not as long as Yusari imagined. “It is all clear to me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I desire _vengeance_.”

“You and I both, Yocchan.”

“I yearn for the blood of those who have forsaken me. No, more than that, I desire the blood of their pitiful race. Not a pair of wings is to be spared my wrath.”

Yusari walks up to Yohane and takes her by the arms. Her gaze longs for affection, if not for flesh violated by the Defiler. “There’ll be plenty of that here. Will you descend with me, Yocchan?”

The latter’s answer is painfully obvious, in time for the hall’s doors to come down before a show of holy force. The Defiler, an indispensable servant of darkness, is in jeopardy. And only two fallen angels stand in the way of a decisive victory by those who have forsaken them.

> **CHIKA:** Ugh…
> 
> **RIKO:** Chika-chan, are you okay?
> 
> **CHIKA:** No! Yoshiko-chan’s story is making my head hurt.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Do you still want to continue?
> 
> **YOU:** Don’t worry about her, Yocchan. A bit of cake will get her energy back.
> 
> **DIA:** Still, that was one crazy predicament. What made you think heresy like that will get us to like you?
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Let’s just say I got _too_ carried away.


	6. The Vengeful

**216 CY before the events of _Guilty Barrel_**

_I was a fool to believe that the angels were conspiring against me. This lie has seeped into the depths of my mind that it became truth for the rest of my life in exile. The darkness made me open my eyes and come to terms with the real truth, however painful._

_Instead of lending an ear to an idea that can benefit both sides, the light has chosen to chastise me for heresy. Instead of accepting a means to end an endless war, it decided to turn a deaf ear to it. For this, the desire for vengeance quenched—and replaced—my thirst for knowledge. All that I have learned on the harmonic way of life will be used against them as I embrace a new purpose: destruction._

**~O~**

Within the nakedness of Yohane’s body, an outburst of dark energy freezes the attacking angels in place. In her eyes, the desire to slay every pair of white wings before her burns ferociously. It inspires fear among friend and foe, the fearless Yusari even forced to back away. She can do nothing to stop doom from descending upon her enemies, not that she wishes to. At a safe distance, she watches the dark bonfire sear her partner’s flesh. Not an inch to be spared.

As if to start the great change, Yusari utters a phrase in hush tones. “Yohane, descend.”

At that exact moment, rifts tear open around Yohane and send out chains to wrap her body. While unbearable, the tension the chains bring forth excites her enough to elicit a howl. Cold steel rubs against every inch of flesh, including breasts and orifices that add to the thrill. Then, the chains are set ablaze in the same dark flame burning her. It slowly morphs the chains into her new dress, daring but overflowing with power, and her weapon of choice: a pair of handguns. Her thrilled gasps reach its peak at the moment she grew a pair of ebony wings, marking her new identity.

Finally, the bonfire vanishes and releases the new fallen angel from her transformation. The vestiges of the prodigious sage—especially her demureness—no longer exists in her new form. Vengeance supersedes the pursuit of knowledge, the idea of coexistence an afterthought never to be raised again.

The sage called Yohane is no more. She who stands is the _fallen angel_ Yohane.

“That’s right, Yocchan. Kill them all,” Yusari whispers to herself, after which undergoes her own gratifying transformation.

Meanwhile, rallying from their terror, the angels draw out their blades. They still outnumber the girls five-to-one, and one of their enemies has only begun to embrace the darkness.

“Hold fast, fellow angels. She has yet to fully master her newfound powers,” said the presumed leader of the attacking force. “Even with the Perverted Peltast, they cannot stand against ten Rulers.”

Fully transformed, Yusari smirks at their advantage. “Rulers, eh? This should be fun.”

One of the Rulers, perhaps the bravest yet the most foolish, steps forth. “I shall draw first blood against this upstart of a fallen angel, brothers.” Before his fellow Rulers move to stop him, he dashes head on toward a confident victory.

A surprised Yusari realizes that she has stepped back too far to intervene on time. She flies toward her, frantically hoping for a miracle. “Yocchan, look out!”

Within the next second, angels and demons alike are left stunned. The crack of a gun fired in anger and the fall of the foolhardy Ruler leave the fires of the Burning Gate the only sounds playing. The smoking end of Yohane’s wrath points at the rest of the caving Rulers, their lifeless kin bleeding from a headshot in its wake. Needless to say, Yusari grins at the cruelty of her partner and the gratification it provides.

“Fear not, Rulers,” Yohane speaks in a tone as cold as snow. “You will all join him soon.”

Yusari shudders and barely hangs on to her spear. Her free hand inches closer to underneath her skirt, coupled with gasps hungry for self-satisfaction. “Aaahh, Yocchan! Ah…ah…aaahh…! Don’t make me too excited before the battle even starts!”

> **RIKO:** You and your fetishes, You-chan.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** [sighs] You don’t know the half of it, Riri.
> 
> **YOU:** [giggles]

The collective rage of the angels throws itself against her, exactly how she wants it. From a distance, Yusari lifts no finger to help a fellow fallen angel, and for good reason. Nothing good can possibly come out of getting in the way of a predator and her prey. She bears witness to the grace of the gunslinger making a mockery of angels far more superior in almost every aspect. The roar of her guns dominates the air of battle, followed by the agony of gaping wounds, if not severed limbs.

As a former sage, Yohane knows how all the hierarchies of harmony do battle—up to the mysterious seraphs. Heaven has made the mistake of making an enemy out of one whose thirst for wisdom was once without end.

 _Unbelievable,_ Yusari looks on, astonished. _I didn’t think she would be ready against anyone higher than Archangels. But she’s making Rulers look stupid in their own game. Only a few demons are capable of such a feat. I…I don’t think I made a mistake meeting her. I think I’m in love already. Yocchan is…she’s…just extraordinary!_

“Brothers, withdraw! We must regroup!” the leader rallies his kin and flees. The angels leave behind their bravado with the piled bodies of half of their comrades, now a summit that Yohane conquers with little effort.

Yusari now deems safe to join her in basking in this victory. “So, how does it feel? How does vengeance feel?”

“Satisfying,” Yohane uttered.

“Glad to hear it.” 

“Are you expecting some sort of gratitude?”

“A little…if you feel like it.”

Yohane jumps off the slain pile and walks past her partner. “I owe nothing. I only did what is expected of me.”

“You’re harsh. Just the way I like it.”

The dead Rulers are then left at the mercy of the Defiler, which drags and devours them whole. Needless to say, the battle is far from over.

> **YOSHIKO:** Okay. That part’s done. Let’s move on—”
> 
> **RIKO:** No, it’s not, Yocchan. That’s only half the story.
> 
> **YOU:** For once, I agree with Riko-chan. You’re forgetting the most exciting part of that chapter.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s more exciting than your first transformation?
> 
> **YOU:** Well, true, that’s kinda exciting. But that has nothing compared to—”
> 
> [Three-way argument continues]
> 
> **CHIKA:** Dia-san, what are they talking about?
> 
> **DIA:** If I have to guess, it’s the time Riko-san beat her bad. _Really_ bad.
> 
> **HANAMARU:** [cackles] She’s too ashamed to talk about it, zura.

**~O~**

Yohane’s gaze snaps toward a blade appearing out of nowhere and heading for her throat. Inches from certain death, she moves aside but gets grazed by the length of its edge. Not given a moment to glimpse her attacker, she dodges the thrusts of a hundred blade tips all done by a single sword. Most fail to connect, but some cut her up from head to toe. Only with Yusari’s sudden attack does the attacker stop and let herself be known.

The radiance of angelic armor and wings fills the darkness of the decrepit hall. Blood drips from the tip of the rapier, the hand that wields it poised to draw more. The challenger to the darkness hides the ferocity of Dominions behind the grace of Virtues, her hair swaying despite the lack of wind.

For the first time, Yusari shudders at the sight of her possible demise. “Lucifer help us all.”

“Yusari, who is that!?” cried Yohane.

“The one angel I wish that we never, EVER meet.”

The formidable angel assumes her stance once more. Honor, if any, dictates that she makes at least her name known. “I see that you managed to slay some of my comrades. In that case, I—Ricosia the Lonely Sword—will be your opponent.”

“The Lonely Sword?” replied Yohane. “I have never heard of you, not even in my studies.”

“Hmm? I never realized I was fighting a heretic this entire time.”

“The only heretic here is the hypocrisy of your craven race!”

“Enough. I did not come here to talk.”

“So did I. Have at you!”

A two-to-one advantage might not save the fallen angels from the likes of Ricosia. Bullets and spears fly past her innocuously, prompting a response with masterful swings of the rapier. First, Yohane matches the angel move for move, her guns blazing close but not enough to inflict death. She is promptly knocked aside, only for Yusari to swoop in with a rain of spears from rifts. Even this is barely worth Ricosia’s time, as she charges through the spears and maims the fallen angel. As Yusari is thrown aside, the furious flare of Yohane’s guns returns to the fight. As soon as she is thrown aside again, Yusari lunges back into the fray in a frenzy. The cycle, no matter how vicious, only batters the fallen angels more than their common enemy.

> **MARI:** You’re not kidding when you meant not wanting to meet her in a fight. She’s really _amazing_.
> 
> **RIKO:** Mari-san, I still regret that today, you know.
> 
> **MARI:** About not being able to kill Yohane?
> 
> **RIKO:** Wha—no! Well sure, it was the case _back then_ , but…
> 
> **MARI:** You’re fun to tease.
> 
> **RIKO:** [cries] Mari-san!

The Lonely Sword even highlights one of her enemies’ faults without missing a step in her own attack. “Your newfound power is formidable, but you have yet to master it. I cannot imagine how you were able to defeat several Rulers on your own. Perhaps their zeal has been their undoing.”

Her words are an affront to Yohane, who fires more in anger. The angel makes a mockery of the hailstorm of bullets despite only having a split second to evade each round.

Yusari sees danger other than the angel. “Yocchan, your guns!”

Yohane heeds her partner’s words too late. The guns, searing from relentless fire, burst into flaming pieces in her hands. They scar her and fall to the ground, in time for Ricosia to subdue her with a kick in the gut. Yohane falls, the tip of Ricosia’s blade looming in between her eyes. Still air separates the fallen angel and certain death.

“Yocchan!” a desperate Yusari mounts a charge. She pays the price in agonizing pain with a slash across her chest. Her partner winces at the grinding of the angel’s foot.

“It seems I was right. The Rulers indeed have been careless,” remarked the angel.

“Let…let her go…you redhead bitch…”

“Your kind must not be allowed to flourish. Your lives must end here and now. I hope you understand.”

“I swear…I will make…your life a living hell.”

“You shall not have the chance.”

Ricosia lifts her blade, the tip still bearing down in between Yohane’s eyes. Of course, the execution is never carried out because of a messenger with dire news.

“Lady Ricosia,” the messenger, resembling a certain emissary of Olympians, kneels in reverence to the angel. “The Council has issued a withdrawal across all fronts to consolidate our forces. The Third Legion is to pull out of the Burning Gate immediately.”

She puts her blade away without a contest. The fallen angels are spared a lethal fate for now. No parting words, no suggestive glares. Ricosia and the messenger take to the ember-filled skies, her injured enemies watching helplessly. The battle is won but through circumstance, not a fierce struggle. That fact alone leaves a taste the proud are unable to bear. 


	7. Call to Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've already read "Sisters in Arms," which I erroneously uploaded, good for you. You've been spoiled in advance.
> 
> That chapter will be re-uploaded next week. In the meantime, enjoy this correct chapter.

**183 CY before the events of Guilty Barrel**

_We spent the next few years licking our wounds (and to Yusari’s glee, each other) but also training. I tempered my resolve with each opportunity to hone my skills, always recalling how helpless I was in our first skirmish against Ricosia. You could say that she became my “inspiration” for getting better._

_First things first, though. I needed a new weapon._

**~O~**  

A deafening rumble echoes from the grind of two great slabs of stone. The skull heads and chains dotting the slabs rattle at the snail-paced parting, the engraved jet black wings opening the way. Behind the great doors that face the Plagued Everglades, the spires of a necropolis black as the skies above show its splendor. Lights flicker in the darkness where the denizens of discord thrive.

“Welcome to the Necropolis,” the gate’s guardian greets two fallen angels seeking entry into the dark city. Dresses blemished with a layer of grime, they cross the gateway into the safety of the walls. Another day of running the gauntlet in the wild comes to an end as the two walk the rest of the way to the heart of the city. As to their choice of walking over flying, the rules of the land are made clear. Only the defenders of the necropolis can take to the skies freely, one of many rules the fallen angel Yohane must learn about her new life.

Many years have passed, yet Yohane feels no closer to a sense of kinship. Ridicule and doubt mock her as she passes by pockets of denizens, some with a snake-like glare. Only Yusari’s company protects her from the dangers neophytes face on their first few years. Focused on her quest for revenge, however, the heckling bothers her little.

“Don’t worry, Yocchan,” Yusari said. “Once you start making a name for yourself, they’ll shut up. Everyone went through this, including me.”

“Such concerns are trivial to me,” Yohane speaks like the olden nobles, a trait she may have inherited from the darkness that made her see. “Revenge is all that matters now.”

“You’re a piece of work,” laughed Yusari. “Did the Defiler teach you to talk like that?”

“Enough. We still have work to do, Yusari.”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what you want to do next.”

Yohane draws out one of her holstered guns and looks at it with derision. “This gun hardly suits my approach to battle. Its rate of fire is abysmal and its magazines hold too little. Furthermore, a misfire in the chamber grazed my hands during training, much to my annoyance. This weapon is an utter disgrace.”

“You _did_ want the best money can buy. It just happened to be half price.”

“Now, I only want the best. Where do we start our search?”

Clearly the armory where they purchased the ill-performing guns is out of the question. “The Dark Reliquary has some of discord’s finest weapons. Demons are free to take one, but—”

“But _what_?”

Despite her hesitation clear as day, Yusari wears a smile as cover. “It’s nothing.”

“What is it?”

“Really, it’s no big deal. Let’s head to the reliquary.”

Yusari goes on ahead without turning back, her apathetic partner following in trail. Her mind turns restless with the thought of death. _What are you doing, Yusari? You know that two people desiring the same relic must fight to the death to determine its rightful owner. Why don’t you tell Yocchan that?_ Not a word is spoken, yet her anxiety can only hide for so long.

The flaming spire tip of the Reliquary eventually comes to view. Beneath it, the great dome that holds the works of the realm’s finest craftsmen entices demons from all walks of life. In a hurry, the demons trickle into the building and scatter upon stepping foot. Kin against kin, they either pull each other down or fight at the onset. As far as the entrance, the blood of pockets of death matches stains the floor. The two fallen angels, entering the Reliquary in silence, pay no heed to the violence around them. They know better than to be consumed by greed, although Yohane simply gives no attention to their damned fates.

More importantly, this works to Yusari’s favor. _Perfect. The less people in the Reliquary, the less likely Yocchan has to fight for what she wants. I couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity than this._

Vast collections welcome them deeper and deeper into the Reliquary, using their bright glamour to inveigle into choosing them. At one point, Yusari chuckles as they pass an empty glass case smeared with various hues of blood long dried. A past skirmish she eerily cherishes makes her summon her spear.

“This is where I got my spear,” she began. “Six or seven of us, I think, fought over it.”

“Knowing you, your adversaries’ fates do not surprise me,” Yohane replied.

“Oh don’t worry, they’re all still alive.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Oh yes. They’re just...not the demons they used to be anymore.”

“Hmph. Chilling.”

“But enough about me. See anything you like?”

Yohane trains her gaze everywhere but shakes her head in dismay. “Nothing speaks to me.”

“Speaks? You want a weapon that could talk?”

“Was that supposed to make me chuckle?”

“Trust me. You _don’t_ want that kind of weapon.”

The long drawn-out search takes them through the endless shelves of relics. Be it a sword that once harbored the malice of a great demon or a tome of powerful curses, nothing catches Yohane’s eye. Even her partner’s patience is put to the test by the lack of a decision.

> **YOSHIKO:** That reminds me. Ruby, didn’t you get your bow and arrow from that place, too?
> 
> **RUBY:** [blushes] Um…yes…
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** The story goes that you begged the poor fallen angel non-stop to hand it over.
> 
> **YOU:** Oh, _that_ one! Ha, ha, ha! He got so pissed that he just up and gave it to Ruby-chan. That still cracks me up!
> 
> **RUBY:** [whimpers inaudibly]
> 
> **DIA:** [sighs] Please continue with your story, Yoshiko-san.

Finally, to her partner’s relief, she stops in front of a pair of firearms with long barrels.

Hellstorm Handguns, 60-caliber solid-shot firearms forged from malevolent steel. To stand on the receiving end entails severed limbs, if not massive blood loss. Tales of their brute strength keep the case holding them wrapped in chains and sealed at the darkest part of the Reliquary. It resonates with Yohane’s hunger for power in the form of echoes only the vengeful can hear.

“You can tear a behemoth’s arm clean off with this,” Yusari looks at the encased handguns intently. “Assuming you can handle how they kick with each shot. Are you sure you want this?”

“Recoil means nothing to a strong grip and a stronger resolve,” Yohane replied.

“Then by all means, go ahead and take them.”

The guns glisten before the hand that ultimately longs for them. Images of bloodbaths at the hands of the Hellstorm’s potential wielder flash before Yohane’s eyes, all showing a battlefield strewn with crippled ivory wings. Voices in her head call out to take up her new tool for exacting revenge, voices she heeds above all else. Her partner smiles in anticipation of a more formidable fallen angel among the ranks of discord.

Her hand touches the case, followed by a moment of joy. But only then she takes notice of an unseen hand wanting the same case. Yusari’s worst fear, to her fear, has come true.

More so when Yohane scowls at her opponent for the weapon. “It calls for me. Let go.”

“I’m sorry,” glared the fallen angel behind the opposing hand. “Are you new here? We have _rules_ around these parts, and one of them involves respecting your seniors.”

“The hand that claims first has the right to the relic. That IS the rule here, correct?”

“What makes you think you claimed this relic first?”

“As I have said earlier, it calls for me. It wants my thirst for vengeance.”

“And you believe it’s stronger than my need for a more powerful weapon?”

“It depends. Are you powerful enough?”

“Watch that sharp tongue of yours, neophyte.”

“Then watch your back, _comrade_.”

The scowls of two fallen angels all but keeping their fury in reserve threatens to devolve into a bloodbath. The way Yusari sees the standoff, Yohane clearly has no idea about her chosen enemy. Given the latter’s unabating scowl, it may not matter. Either way, the situation must be defused.

“Now, now, let’s all calm down,” Yusari intercedes on Hell’s behalf. “We can settle this dispute peacefully, like civilized people. All we have to do is let go of the gun—”

The rival’s scowl turns to her instead. “You know that isn’t an option, Yusari-san. This can only be settled by a fight to the death, and you know that.”

“Sefra-chan, I know I hate your guts. But can you at least forgive Yocchan for her behavior? She is new here in the Necropolis, after all.”

Neither Yohane nor Yusari notice Sefra’s escort until the latter speaks freely.

“You have the nerve to ask nee-sama for a favor after you _insulted_ her.”

“Leara-chan? Sorry, didn’t notice you there.”

“And you dare insult me, too? You’ll have a lot to answer for, Perverted Peltast.”

“No, no. That was a compliment. I’d never insult you for your height—no siree.”

“If you want to die, all you have to do is ask.”

“Nah, that never works. Yocchan tried it before.”

The bluish glow of orbs on Sefra and Leara’s hands prompts an armed response from the receiving end of Yusari’s spear. The tension lures sparse pockets of fellow demons and their craving for the imminent fight. Chatter slowly fills the silent air among the aisles of relics, mostly about the “new fool” challenging the Sisters of the False Saint. Between yielding in shame and fighting in a mismatch, in a warrior society the latter makes more sense.

“Okay, you two. I tried asking nicely,” the Perverted Peltast’s spear spins with masterful dexterity. “Guess we’ll have to do this the hard—”

A loud crack later, she shrieks at an unseen force knocking the spear out of her hand. The source: the smoking end of Yohane’s inferior gun.

“Yocchan?”

“Step away, Yusari. These two are my prey.”

           


	8. Sisters of Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Here it is. The chapter erroneously uploaded last week. Enjoy.

**182 CY before the events of Guilty Barrel**

_Two demons desiring the same weapon must fight to the death to settle the dispute. The rule of the Dark Reliquary is absolute. Strangely enough, the thought of death never crossed my mind that time. Fiery rage kept me too occupied to think about falling in battle._

_Yusari urged me to look for another weapon, but my heart was set on the Hellstorms. I don’t care about the reputation of the so-called Sisters of the False Saint or their feared prowess. If earning the respect of the Hellstorms entails bathing the sisters in their own blood, I’ll show no hesitation._

_I will kill anyone who gets in my way, angel or demon._

 

A gathering of demons swells into a crowd, chatter about odds filling the air inside the reliquary. The majority, as expected, speaks highly of the challenged: Sefra and Leara, the Sisters of the False Saint. Formidable alone, the sibling servants sow fear among ally and adversary alike with the power of their minds. The staves they wield, to the chagrin of the unaware, are only for show. Unleashing their power only requires that the sisters “think” of a fitting fate for their opponents. Should they be immolated? Should they bend to the will of the sisters? The possibilities are only limited by the sisters themselves. Only few survive their wrath to tell the tale, only because the sisters deem it so. All the tales shared so far tell one common theme: Yohane is a fool to challenge them over a triviality.

Minutes before the clash, Yusari pleads to her friend to rethink about her decision. “Look, I know you’re strong—like, _really_ strong. That’s why I’m sure you don’t need that weak pair of—”

“A weapon calling out to me is nothing to scoff about, Yusari,” Yohane interrupts her.

“Come on! How can you even tell? It might be from someone murmuring in the shadows.”

“Why would a denizen bother calling me? You said it yourself: I have to prove my worth.”

“But against _those_ two? People here think you’re insane!”

“I once shared heresy with the heavens. Insanity is a part of me now.”

Insanity is an understatement. To challenge two formidable fallen angels with nothing but inferior arms and harsh language is perhaps beyond that. The guns that have earned her look of disapproval begin to feel warm to the touch. With enough use, they will explode just as her previous pair did. They will not last long enough to bring her victory, if not see to her downfall. So Yusari comes forward with a compromise.

“At least let me fight with you. Improve your odds a little.”

Yohane flatly refuses. “Do not come between a fallen angel and her prey.”

“Now you’re just citing movie references. Though that’s sorta true…”

“Worried about my downfall?”

Yusari looks away before all of her face reddens. “Ridiculous. I know you can win this.”

“Then do this fool a favor. See to my remains after my downfall.”

Bewildered, Yusari looks back at Yohane. “That ain’t gonna happen, Yocchan!” her words, however, fall short of reaching the latter now entering the fray. She watches the battle unfold from a safe distance, alone to bear the tension choking her. “Be safe, Yocchan…”

Yohane meets the sisters at the center of the clearing, encircled by an enthused crowd. The sisters scoff at arguably another horrible decision.

“Are you sure you want to take us on alone?” said the older sister Sefra.

“Are you sure you two want to do battle with me?” replied Yohane.

“You’re insane. Then again, that pervert only hangs out with insane people.”

“Leave Yusari out of this. Your fight is with me.”

> **YOU:** Insane people, she said. Just because she’s a member of the Black Hand…
> 
> **CHIKA:** The Black Hand?
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** The elite cadre of discord. Cream of the crop.
> 
> **KANAN:** One of them nearly killed me in a campaign a long time ago. I only escaped since discord was forced to retreat.
> 
> **RIKO:** They’re that strong?
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Membership isn’t easy, however. They keep their strength to a fixed number.
> 
> **RIKO:** So that means…

Whether the universe sees her words as bravado or madness, Yohane makes good on her desire to battle. The receiving end of her guns balks at the madness and readies to respond in kind. Then, without warning, the showdown breaks out in a deafening melody of explosions. Neither of the two cares for their fellow demons caught in the blasts. Only the weak fail to evade danger as it happens.

In the first minutes of the skirmish, the tide is just as the crowd predicted. Bullets fired out of anger fall short of their prey, stopped by a bluish aura. It turns the bullets against the lone fallen angel with ease. As the barrage cuts her dress to ribbons, her reprisal comes in another wave of lead. But the result is the same.

“Another fool bites the dust,” one demon’s remark draws a favorable consensus. With the power to invoke their desires, the Sisters of the False Saint inch closer to another effortless victory.

From the side, Yusari trembles at the inevitable. Perhaps she should have refused Yohane’s wish to stay out of the battle. Despite spear on hand, she simply looks on wincing at every grunt of pain from her friend. Her mind tears itself apart between two conflicting decisions. _What should I do? Should I jump in? Should I stay put?_

Under fire from her own wrath, however, Yohane refuses to relent. Her wings, tattered from the rain of lead, lock around her like armor as she charges head-on in a spin. Before she draws close, the sisters use their aura against her wings, prying them open with ease.

To their shock, the muzzles of two guns flash before them. The rounds find their mark, not on the head but enough to stagger them bleeding. From a second of stunned silence, the audience of demons erupts in shock and disbelief.

A lone fallen angel has done what others before her have died trying to do. And through it, Yohane has their weakness all figured out.

“I must admit,” she said. “Your powers truly sow fear in the hearts of angel and demon alike. But it can only deal with one threat at a time. Your powers probably stand no chance against an army hell bent on wanting your heads on sticks.”

And thus, the deities of war favor the challenger.

**~O~**

“THIS BATTLE’S FAR from over,” Sefra, bleeding from her gut, musters the energy to exclaim. The struggle to remain standing takes its toll, forcing more blood to gush out. Soon, the blessing of the body protected by nigh invulnerability shows its true colors as a curse.

“True,” Yohane’s smug adds insult to injury. “But your body shows that it is unable to bear a fatal blow. Now that I have seen through your tricks, putting you down will be much easier.”

The awe of the crowd, once unanimous as to the victor, knows no limit as it reels from the turn of events. The “fool” they once jested and jeered upon has but all of the demons’ respect. Not a damned soul will ever doubt her thirst for vengeance, much less the lengths she will go to achieve it. Judging by her glare directed at a bleeding Sefra, fratricide is an option.

“Nee-sama,” Leara, with a less-lethal wound in the shoulder, hurries to her sister’s aid.

“The Defiler brought a strong one, Leara. Don’t underestimate her.”

“Keep it together, nee-sama. We can still defeat her.”

“I know. We’ll put her in her place together.”

“Yes. Together.”

Crossing their staves, the sisters channel their energy into a swirling sphere. The response to a mass of energy as big as them is a head-on charge, but the mass is released before it can be stopped. The crowd disperses before the sisters’ trump card engulfs all that stands in the way, including shelves upon shelves of relics. Girders rain from above as a storm of bullets pelt the mass in a futile attempt to stop it.

Worse, the guns scald Yohane’s hands, now primed to blow up. “What a bother.”

She has learned her lesson the last time. The best way to dispose overheating guns is against a mass of energy heading her way. Two opposing forces contact and neutralize each other in a blast that flattens much of the Reliquary’s interior. Amidst the earsplitting ring of metal hitting the floor, Yusari forces her eyes to peer through the dust cloud for Yohane.

“Yocchan? Yocchan, where are you?!” she calls out, only to be disrupted by a missing object from her hand. “Huh? My spear! Where did it go?”

Enveloped by the cloud, Sefra and Leara tense their glares at the abyss. The bedlam arising from their powerful attack is ideal for an ambush. Just a glance of a fallen angel’s silhouette and the sisters can regain the favor of the gods.

“See anything, nee-sama?” said Leara.

“Nothing yet,” replied Sefra. “I never thought we would be forced to use that attack.”

“No fallen angel should be this strong in her first years in the Underworld. Who is she?”

“I have no clue. Still, we have to defeat her. Our position at the Black Hand is at stake.”

“Of course, but can you still fight?”

“Have faith in your older sister, Leara.”

“I would never doubt you, nee-sama.”

Finally, they make out a silhouette from the cloud, its wings spread out to their fullest. Is it Yohane? It must be, seeing that no other demon would approach them without a reason. Again, they cross their staves and amass another sphere of destruction. The downfall of one hated enemy is worth reducing the entire Reliquary to ashes. But in a haste to do so, they unleash their attack too soon. The smaller sphere inflicts much less harm than the one before but finds its mark.

The cloud clears up enough for the sisters to witness their destroyed foe. But all that lies before them is a gravely-injured Yusari, having wandered into the cloud in search of her missing spear. “Good hit, you two,” she chuckled before collapsing.

To their horror, Yohane is still at large. Nothing stands in the way of the spear she borrowed impaling Sefra from behind. Blood erupts from the spearhead sticking out of Sefra’s chest, her younger sister realizing her loss too late. The spearhead withdraws from whence it came, completing the downfall of one.

She chooses her last words wisely. “Leara…run…” and death takes her soul for itself.

“Nee-sama…n-no…”

“Fear not,” gloated the executioner with a bloodied spear. “You will join her shortly.”

“You…you’ll pay for this!”

Without her sister, Leara’s rage is no more than an empty threat. All of her magic barely scathes Yohane, who replies with a fatal bullet to the head. To Leara’s shock, she gets a glimpse of the relic they are fighting for control now in Yohane’s hands.

No declaration of the victor. No justifiable end. Only two victims of the great lengths Yohane will go to achieve her goal.

No witnesses to her treachery amidst the rubble. She carries an unconscious Yusari with her prize and leaves the destruction.

> **YOSHIKO:** It wasn’t going to end other than one of us dead.
> 
> **RIKO:** Yocchan…
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** By now, you must think that I’m a ruthless animal. And I don’t blame you. There’s still blood on my hands. I can’t wash them off.
> 
> **CHIKA:** Still, I don’t believe that anyone is beyond saving.
> 
> **RIKO:** Chika-chan?
> 
> **CHIKA:** Yoshiko-chan would never waste time on friends if she believes there’s no hope for her to change..
> 
> **DIA:** Chika-san, you do realize you’re telling a human idea to a fallen angel.
> 
> **CHIKA:** Does it matter? You guys are all here sharing stories. I think we all want to change for the better.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Thanks, Chika.


	9. Trial by Fire (Part 1)

**165 CY before the events of Guilty Barrel**

_Word of the Sisters’ fall spread across the city, but it wasn’t enough to convince the denizens. I kinda cheated my way to victory after all, seizing the prize before a winner could be declared. Then again, I killed the Sisters and had the guns. Nothing else mattered._

_Yusari was asleep when an important visitor came over. He introduced himself as Cain, leader of the Black Hand. I still remember what he told me following the fight._

_“The bad news is that you just killed two of my most elite subordinates. The good news is that now there’s room for you two.”_

**~O~**

Resting her battered body, Yusari opens her eyes to the vast ceiling of chandeliers and cracks. The rain of fine dust not only disrupted her slumber but also gave a clue as to her whereabouts. Between rows upon rows of beds and the injured demons filling half, she can be in no other place than the old sanitarium. But try as she might to recall the events that led her here, nothing comes to mind. Only after she sees her spear by the bedside table does she recall some.

“Oh yeah,” she muttered. “I was looking for my spear. But why was I looking for it? Was it missing or something?”

Her gaze turns opposite of the table: the innocent look of Yohane unable to resist sleep. Her wings lean on the bedside as does her sleepy head. Why is she in fallen angel form, much less while asleep? Not that it interests the bedridden Yusari more than a rare sight of a cruel fallen angel at peace, infatuation for her hungry heart. For a time, she struggles to recognize Yohane as the hero (or villain, depending on perspective) who has defeated the undefeatable in cold blood.

“Now I remember,” she said.

Typical of her mischief, Yusari lifts her skirt and repeatedly shoves her hand between her legs. Her companion sleeps through unrelenting moaning, paying little heed to the fellow injured. The other free hand fancies squeezing breasts under her dress with gusto. Not once does her eyes avert from the slumbering Yohane, more infatuation for her fill. “Yocchan…ah…aaahh…ah…”

Her self-pleasure reaches its climax sooner than usual, soaking not only her panties but also Yohane’s face. The fluid succeeds where the moaning has failed: waking the latter from her slumber. It drips down her face as she faces Yusari beyond euphoria.

“Rise and shine,” greeted the blushing pervert.

Yohane’s reply is less than amicable, threatening to use her brand new weapon against Yusari and her mischief in anger. “Tell me what you did to me and I MIGHT spare your life!”

The pervert cowers behind the sheet. Given her true nature, however, she might be playing pretend. “I played with myself –please don’t hurt me!”

“And why, pray tell, would you do THAT?!”

“I was aroused by your sleepy face—please don’t hurt me.”

“Do you have any idea—ANY IDEA—how long I have to watch over you?!”

“I’m sorry! It won’t happen again–please don’t hurt me.”

“All that lost time could have been better spent waging war against harmony!”

A beacon of noise in the darkness of silence, the exchange earns the fallen angels the ire of a passing nightingale. Her colleagues from a distance chuckle at a familiar jest, where the demon king fears nightingales more than all of Heaven. The reproof ends as quickly as it started, the nightingale leaving the fallen angels. Understandably, a flustered Yohane is unable to raise a word in defense.

And the once-terrified Yusari is laughing at the silliness. “First achievement as a fallen angel: get ear chewed off by a nightingale. That’s one for the history books.”

Lest they earn the ire of another, Yohane simply takes a seat in frustration. “How can you still be laughing after that?”

“I’ve been scolded for a lot of things. At that point, I just learned to assume the position.”

“And I assume disturbing the peace of a sanitarium is one of your basic works?”

“Let’s just say your whole back-story won’t be enough,” and with her reputation, Yusari may as well be correct. Not that her friend’s list of indiscretions are any different, which include theft and heresy. “And don’t forget using my spear without permission.”

> **RIKO:** Hold on. Did you just break the fourth wall there?
> 
> **YOU:** Did I? Shameless self-promotion for the win!
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Can I _please_ get back to my story now?

Indiscretions aside, Yohane chooses to raise a more important matter. One discussed with a certain guest as Yusari slept through her closing wounds. Her dire look shows her intent on taking the matter with utmost sincerity.

“Yusari,” Yohane began. “The leader of the Black Hand came by the night after the battle.”

“I figured he’d come,” Yusari replied. “He just lost two of his most elite subordinates.”

“He wishes for us to take the Sisters’ places.”

“Join the Black Hand? He doesn’t want our heads?”

“He wants our decision by tonight. I…I want to accept his offer, but…”

Yusari’s response comes with no resistance, to Yohane’s disbelief. “Then I’ll join you.”

“Yusari?”

“This is an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Yocchan. Go for it.”

“Are you not surprised? Suspicious, even?”

“You get suspicious _after_ you get on board something. Not _before_.”

**~O~**

THE FALLEN ANGELS pass on their decision to join the elite cadre without question. However, as their predecessors have, they must prove their worth. Soon, they take to the skies for a task only the Black Hand accepts without fear..

From the blighted darkness of the Necropolis, the vitality of the Meadowlark comes to view. The meadow world that once set the stage for Yohane’s eventual descent is to be another battlefield. This time, however, no longer will she be helpless against her former kin. The voice of her handguns clamors for her to finally exact her long-awaited revenge, to which she only smiles in self-assurance. In her excitement, Yohane dashes toward the destination without a word, prompting her partner to match her speed. They run into a few of harmony’s “cannon fodder,” which falls before a hail of fire and thirst for blood.

“Enjoying the bloodbath, Yocchan?” teased Yusari in the midst of the battle.

“These angels are hardly a challenge,” Yohane replied.

“I’m sure we’ll run into stronger ones soon.”

“Regardless, the mission takes priority. Never forget that.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Fortunately, their arrival has yet to be noticed. Under the cover of a dense forest, Yohane and Yusari sprint the rest of the way. More angels stand in their way but not one is able to warn their remaining brethren in the rear. Their effective teamwork is duly noted, but nothing less than the success of the task will speak for them.

The true test of their mettle begins outside an ivory temple, an idiosyncrasy in the middle of dense woodland. Its radiating pallor sheds light to a part of the forest where the sun struggles to shine. Sleek curves and spires appear antithetical to the jagged style that defines Underworld architecture. No doubt that this is their destination, their objective deep within its walls and behind formidable defenders.

“No reason to keep this quiet,” with the throw of her spear, Yusari reignites the fire of battle. It impales one angel to death, several others falling before a curtain of lead.

Every defender lies dead within minutes, save for one whose presence is noticed too late. He takes to the skies, most likely to return with his brethren for revenge.

“Leave her be, Yusari,” Yohane said.

“What? She’s surely gonna call for help.”

“I am aware of that. This is why we must complete the task with haste.”

The doors burst open with a solid kick, and the fallen angels enter. The straightforward halls adorned with statues and relics are reminiscent of the Defiler’s decrepit abode. They maintain their guard against a temple devoid of angels as they reach another door on the opposite end. The heavy lock cannot keep the door closed when the key is a shot from the Hellstorms. It shatters, the door swinging open after another solid kick.

Without its occupants, the inner sanctum is left a clutter of scrolls and books. Treading across the mess without alerting a presence in the shadows might have been impossible. Across the crunch of tramples over parchment, the fallen angels enter the premises weapons drawn. No matter the circumstances, complacency kills the careless all the same.

Yusari locks her gaze on a sight for sadists: an angel nailed to a cross. “There she is, I think.”

> **RIKO:** …
> 
> **DIA:** Riko-san?
> 
> **RIKO:** H-Huh?
> 
> **DIA:** You’ve fallen silent all of a sudden. Is something wrong?
> 
> **RIKO:** Oh, it’s nothing.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** If it’s too painful for you, I can skip this part—
> 
> **RIKO:** Don’t worry about me, Yocchan. It’s all in the past.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** Riri…
> 
> **RIKO:** After all…it’s my fault that she ended up like that.


	10. Trial By Fire (Part 2)

**159 CY before the events of Guilty Barrel**

_Back in my days as an angel, I’ve heard rumors of an experiment to turn normal angels into weapons platforms called Vassals. But they‘re just that: rumors. Upon gazing at an actual subject for the first time, a flurry of emotions got tossed around inside me. I was shocked to know that the rumors were true. At the same time, I was disgusted by the lengths they would go just to win. I’ve never felt so happy to be a fallen angel, now knowing that my revenge is justified._

_This is how they do it. The craven dogs nail you to a cross and subject you to an excruciating ritual. Weapons and magic are infused into your body, each having their own adverse effects from pain to even death. It claims that it’ll help the front by having the weapons come to the warriors instead of the other way around. And for what: to live the rest of your life as a tool?_

_Disgusting. No…it’s beyond disgusting._

**~O~**

Life seeps out of an angel with tangerine hair, the ill-fated chosen to carry the might of the angels into battle. The cost of such a duty is visible through her bleeding hands and feet, the work of huge nails. More blood flows out of her half-closed mouth and half-dead gaze. Pieces of her white robe fall off, revealing the desecration done to her.

A clenched fist alone is unable to contain Yohane’s anger. The harmony she once served without question has revealed the side it hides from the light. Nothing but anger fills the remaining gaps in her resolve to drive the angels to extinction. She shoots the nails out, the dying angel dropping straight to the clutter. After today, never again will she have any doubts.

“Cheravel,” Yusari reads the angel’s dossier on the table. “Apparently, she’s the daughter of a family of orange growers in another realm. She was abducted by angels from the Third Legion not too long ago after showing ‘adequate potential in holding various powers.’”

“Third Legion, you say?” grumbled an infuriated Yohane.

“Come to think of it, that redheaded bitch mentioned she was from the Third.”

“All the more reason we should never hold back.”

“Ooh. Someone’s in the mood for bloody revenge.”

“Yusari, get the angel. The enemy draws near.”

“You got it.”

Yusari pays no heed to the smears on her dress while carrying the angel named Cheravel, the objective of their trial. Resting on the back of one of her malefactors, she utters a name in the midst of her fleeting daze. “Ri…Riko…chan…”

“Riko-chan? As in Ricosia?” replied Yusari in hush tones.

“Riko…chan…why…”

“Heh, heh, heh. This is interesting.”

> **MARI:** That’s something new. Have you heard about it, Dia?
> 
> **DIA:** Can’t say I have. There’s only so much an angel knows, even within her own society.
> 
> **KANAN:** I’ve heard rumors but haven’t seen one myself.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** [snaps] Well, now you know!
> 
> **RIKO:** Yocchan, calm down.
> 
> **YOSHIKO:** [started] Ah! I’m sorry. I got carried away.

Their task half done, Yohane and Yusari focus on the other half: the journey home. Weapons still drawn, they race out of the temple and into the woods. As expected, the angels respond with numbers, blocking their escape on the ground and near the treetops. The intruders face twenty-to-one odds, perhaps more with a hostage in tow. More may come, as the heavens will stop at nothing to keep this a secret.

“You _will_ put her down this instant,” the redhead Ricosia touches down before the intruders. Her gleaming blade is poised to defeat the fallen angels a second time.

“Oh, we _did_ put her down,” Yusari jested. “From the cross. Five minutes ago.”

“All your avenues of escape are sealed off. What do you hope to achieve in jesting?”

“What? I thought you angels enjoy a good joke as much as we demons do.”

“Enough. Release Cheravel now or else.”

Yusari’s response comes swift, holding the angel’s throat by the tip of the spear. The impulse among the angels, most especially Ricosia who cried out to Cheravel, confirms her conjectures. The so-called “Riko-chan” can be none other than the enemy before her. “I was right. You two go way back. Quite the drama if you ask me.”

Known for her calmness even under pressure, Ricosia in this case has lost all calm. Her blade is about to see battle, albeit through a livid wielder. “This is your last warning! Release Cheravel now or die by my hand!”

The tumult wakes Cheravel, the little strength in her only enough to observe what she woke up to.

“Riko-chan,” she gazes at her old friend with eyes streaming tears instead of blood. “Riko-chan…why?”

“Chera-chan! I…I didn’t mean to…”

“All along, I thought you were my friend.”

“I still am, Chera-chan. Please give me another chance.”

“And what?! So you can trick another one?!”

“Let me fix things. We can still be together.”

“NO!”

“Please listen—”

“NO MORE TRICKS!”

Yohane ends the exchange with a warning shot that grazes past Ricosia’s ear. She sides with Cheravel’s decision, ultimately to the benefit of her mission.

“Your friend has spoken. The time for talk is over.”

**~O~**

THE BRIGADE OF ANGELS dares not meddle in a fight their leader has taken personally, rather holding fast at every avenue of escape. Similarly, Yusari stays with their hostage and still threatens to slit the latter’s throat. None can enjoy the clash of steel other than Yohane and Ricosia, their hate for each other as fierce as the battle itself. Today, however, is different.

Rage, not grace, drives the Lonely Sword’s blade. To Yohane’s disbelief, she finds no trouble shirking her attempts at drawing first blood. She replies in kind with her guns, some finding their mark on the angel’s wings. Ricosia bleeds from the first of several hits but carries on with such recklessness. At one point, a shot intended to sever her arm instead knocks the Lonely Sword’s blade off her hand.

“Is this how the Lonely Sword fights her battles now?” Yohane revels in the humiliation of a once-graceful warrior of harmony.

> **RIKO:** Before I was assigned to the Third, I spent most of my time in the realm where Chera-chan lived. We became good friends for quite a while. And that didn’t change after I got my posting. On my days off, I’d return to the realm to spend more time with her.
> 
> **CHIKA:** So what happened?
> 
> **RIKO:** I…I sold her out.

Ricosia can only listen to the fallen angel’s wounding words ringing true. Cheravel, perhaps the only person that came close to a friend, no longer looks at her in the eye. The warriors under her command glance at her with worry after such a dismal show. Punishment probably awaits her at home should she fail to recover a critical test subject, be it more or less grave than death. What else can a celebrated warrior do?

“Yusari,” Yohane called.

“What’s up?” Yusari replied.

“ _Play_ with our little guest.”

“Play?”

Yohane gives her partner a suggestive smug. “You know what I mean.”

After a while, Yusari figures the innuendo to her delight. “Oh! Okay!”

Cheravel is released from the threat to her life but not from custody. As fellow angels are her witnesses, she staggers under a kiss by her fallen angel captor. Her eyes widen out of shock but soon narrow as if accepting her captor’s love. Latching onto the fallen angel’s dress, she braces for a surge of passion flooding into her. The pain from her wounds has all but ceased to exist with her orifice being played with. She accepts this, too, in a satisfied moan.

The brazen display serves its purpose. Ricosia’s anger reaches its zenith as she picks up her sword and continues her recklessness. Pelted by a rain of lead from her collected enemy, she is unable to get close enough to free Cheravel from forced coitus. Through bloody eyes, she bears the suffering of Cheravel finding pleasure in the erotica of her hated enemy. Adding insult to injury is Yusari’s smug toward her.

“Ah…ah…Datenshi-chan,” cried Cheravel.

“Nah, that’s a mouthful. Just call me Yusari.”

“Ah…aaahh…Yu…Yusari-chan…I…”

“Much better. Now, cry for me.”

“I…I’m gonna…aaahh…”

“More! Cry more!”

“Ah…ah…aaaahh…!”

Ricosia drags her body into a futile rescue. Meanwhile, Yohane relishes in cutting her hated enemy to ribbons. _You deserve every round I fired today and would fire tomorrow. Suffer for your hypocrisy. Suffer for eternity._

> **CHIKA:** Sold her out?
> 
> **RIKO:** It’s…complicated. But in the fastest way I can tell you, I tricked her into becoming a subject in the pretense of an “orange growing seminar.”
> 
> **CHIKA:** Why would you do such a thing, Riko-chan?
> 
> **RIKO:** I had no choice. The higher angels threatened to accuse me of treason unless I cooperated. They have been trying to invite her for some time, but she turns them down every time.
> 
> _**MARI:** Between a rock and a hard place, huh?_

A near-fatal round goes through Ricosia’s throat, just as Cheravel shrieks at the climax of her copulation. Both mark the end of a one-sided skirmish, the blood of the defeated contouring around the heel of the victor. The tremor of a major defeat resonates across the flock, most acknowledging Yohane’s power with trepidation. The fall of their leader, though far from dead, has sent the greatest cowards fleeing. The army is broken without its head.

“Yusari, get the angel,” Yohane called. “We are _leaving_.”

But they begin to see the brazen plan’s drawbacks. An engrossed Cheravel is unable to stop licking Yusari between the legs.

“S-sorry, Yocchan,” said Yusari in between gasps. Can you, ah, hold them off for a while? She…she won’t stop…aahh…yaaah…”

Not that it vexes the vengeful fallen angel one bit. “Very well. More angels for me.”

“Give ‘em hell for me, Yocchan.”


End file.
